


Collide and Collapse

by thefullergirl



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Caterer!Laurent, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Wedding Planner!Damen, Wedding Planning, Weddings, a lot of coffee, a lot of food, slight fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 05:59:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17996237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefullergirl/pseuds/thefullergirl
Summary: On one of his most challenging events up to date, Damen gets a little (a lot of) help from Laurent, a caterer he's just met. There's flowers, food, and a lot more than he could have ever planned for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Okay, I honestly don't know how exactly this whole thing came to mind. I think I was mulling over the flower shop au type of thing and I wanted something else, where they both meet and have to work on something together. And then, lo and behold, a wedding fic! I don't know if I can commit to this either but well I'll try lol

Maybe Damen should've seen it coming.  
  
He had just slid his coffee into his cup holder and was about to tell his GPS the next location when his phone rang. Kastor. Usually, Thursdays were one of the busiest days in Damen's week, with all of the stuff that has to be picked up and checked. Usually, he wouldn't answer his brother's calls during this because they were often just griping about work and it took time before it ended. But he decided that it would be fine today, he could afford another half hour or so. He accepted the call.  
  
"What time do you get off work today?" came Kastor's voice, clearly resigned after all the paperwork he must be doing.  
  
"Hello to you too." Damen rubbed at the tension in his shoulders. "I need to pick up fabric samples and some invite mock-ups and there's a meeting..."  
  
"Do you think everything would be done by 8? Let's have dinner."  
  
He wanted to say no, say that he has so many things he hasn't checked off his list yet. Besides, dinners with his brother ended up with at least one of them drunk and stumbling. Usually, that would be Kastor, and getting him back to his apartment was not part of his worknight plan.  
  
"Sure, I can do that," he says instead. It had been a while anyways.  
  
"I'll text you the place. Dinner's on me."  
  
Damen barely replied before he ended the call, already sipping on his coffee. He still has to go to four different places today, and already, he was thinking of excusing himself from that dinner.  
  
He was gonna need another coffee.  
  
~  
  
  
"I think Sea Glass looks a bit too blue," Era, the bride, was arguing. This is their fifteenth shade of green, and it still wasn't quite right.  
  
The groom was rubbing at his temples. "Maybe we should just choose one randomly and go with that," he said.  
  
"Lydos, we can't just choose one without really making sure that it's what we're sticking with all the way! What if it clashes with everything?"  
  
"I doubt it's going to clash that much with the cream napkins, honey," Lydos huffed out.  
  
"They're alabaster, not cream."  
  
Damen tried to soothe both of them, knowing that both must be agitated and tired at this point. Wedding colors were a common thing that could break up a couple, and he didn't want to lose this one when they were already more than two-thirds of the way in. This couple had been emailing him different colors for the past few weeks before they even decided on green.  
  
He stood up from his desk and rang a little bell. Moments later, three glasses of a deep burgundy arrive, placed gingerly in front of every seat. Damen thanked the server and slides back into his seat, prepared to explain the shades one more time. The groom takes his glass and nearly empties it in one go. He breathes deeply for the first time today and flips through the swatches again. Era taps her fingers across the three shades she's most keen on, her glass sitting untouched.  
  
Damen looked at the swatches they weren't really considering. One of them was a gorgeous gem tone, and would go amazingly well with the gold details and the flowers they chose. He has yet to find clients who don't agree to his suggestions, but he could never be sure with these two.  
  
He took the ornaments the couple had chosen from the very beginning to use as inspiration and placed them beside the swatch. One was a brooch with teardrop-shaped emeralds intertwined with gold branches, a gift from Era's aunt. It had travelled several seas with her, the aunt had said, and it would travel to the ends of the Earth with her favorite niece. Era was wearing it the very first day they came into his office.  
  
The second ornament was a dark wooden music box, which could only play a few sputters of a foreign lullaby, something Damen vaguely remembers. It was an old thing, probably passed from son to son. Engraved simply at the base was the family name, Kyr. Lydos had kept it at his desk for as long as he could remember, the comforting tinkling of the music so familiar to him.  
  
Damen put these by the color swatch, placing the fabric sample on the other side of the swatch. He slid photos of the flowers near the objects and gently put a square of the glass sample onto the fabric. It looked better than he imagined, and he showed the couple.  
  
Instantly pleased, they light up as they see it, saying it worked so well and how couldn't they have seen it and it was everything they wanted. Damen had heard this countless times in all his years in the business, but it still makes the corners of his mouth tug up. Nothing more satisfying than having your clients love your ideas.  
  
The meeting ended soon after, with more suggestions listed down and a prompt email to some suppliers. He went and indulged in another glass of wine, as he scrolled through his schedule. January really felt like the Monday of the year, with all the work piling up and the things he has to do. In the middle of squeezing in a client meeting for next week, his phone pinged.  
  
'Edesma @ 6. Table by the windows.' Damen's surprised by his brother's choice in the restaurant. It was Damen's favorite, but for some sort of reason Kastor didn't like going back there. Why have dinner there now?  
  
Before he could think about it too much, he put on his coat and pocketed his keys. Kastor probably wanted something from him, like propose that he join the company or have him do one of their events. That's happened before, and it might very well happen now. He said goodbye to the receptionist and went out to his car. It should have started to get warmer by now, as it usually does in his area, but the air still stings his cheeks. He would prefer to go home, curl up on the new sofa he hadn't even been able to test out fully, with a bowl of that pasta from the little shop next door. But this is his brother, and he promised to make an effort to see him at least once a month.  
  
He arrives at Edesma a little early, and he settles into his seat. Kastor doesn't like this table either, says it's distracting to see everything that was happening outside. Damen, on the other hand, always loved to watch, all the passing cars and laughing groups of people and the city shifting from day to night. There's still the amber and peach tints in the sky as he looked over the menu. A waiter comes by and gives him a basket of warm bread and a variety of simple dips. He still couldn't fathom what about this place would make his brother turn the other way.  
  
Kastor arrives on the dot of 6 o' clock, his form bundled up in his dark clothes. After depositing his coat, he goes to sit down in the seat opposite Damen. He receives a menu and starts to look over it. Damen decides to start.  
  
"Are you going to tell me of all the things that I can achieve at Akielos Inc. again?" He meant it as a joke, since Kastor had been pestering him about it for years.  
  
The older Akielon quirked his mouth up a bit. "No it's not that."  
  
"What is is then? There must be some sort of reason that we came here for you to bribe me into considering something."

Kastor seemed to ignore him completely, calling over a waiter and placing his order. He placed Damen's order too, probably memorized after the times Damen was able to convince him to eat there.

Not a word is passed as they wait for their food, just two men on their phones very clearly forgetting that they're in the same table. Damen didn't know when they started being so distant. Maybe it was their jobs. Maybe it was the fact that they just didn't have much to talk about. Maybe it started when their dad, their only real connecting force, passed away.

Maybe it was something else.

The food arrived fairly soon, several steaming dishes set in front of them. It's the first time today that Damen realizes he's hungry, having gone through most of it on coffee. He started snarfing down, losing most of his composure.

"So," Kastor starts.

"So." Damen hurries to swallow. He shouldn't let himself get this hungry again.

"I've decided on something." His brother's food, to his credit, is halfway done. He hadn't even reached that point the last time.

Damen pops a tiny dumpling into his mouth. "And what'sh that?"

"I'm proposing." Kastor looks at him expectedly.

"Proposing what?" Damen speared another dumpling with his fork. He missed these.

"I'm proposing," Kastor repeats, slowly.

It takes a few beats before Damen's mind registers what he means. Oh. He's proposing. To Jokaste.

Maybe that's why they're distant now.

It's been relatively fast, around a year. Probably a bit more. Kastor usually doesn't move this fast, preferring to fall into a stable routine with everything that he does. All his life, Damen knew that Kastor didn't make rash decisions. The man in front of him is miles away from the brother he knew.

"When?" He spoons some pilaf into his mouth. He wants to say more, ask more, but he's too tired to process the information he's going to get.

Kastor sips at his wine. "Sunday. I know it's too soon."

It is. A little more than a year ago, Damen was in his position, already decided. So sure of the things that were going on in his life. He had a job he liked and a home in a good part of town and a woman he loved. A lot has changed, and he doesn't know how to feel about it.

For one, his brother is going to propose to that woman.

"During the family lunch?" Damen asks, knowing that his voice doesn't sound as steady as he wanted it to be.

His brother nods. "I'm telling you because I need help."

Damen sits back and studies him. There it is. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this without having something to do with the ordeal. Kastor does look like he's under a lot of stress, and knowing that both he and Jokaste are perfectionists, it's hard to plan something as significant as this. And he hates it, but he already is envisioning something.

"Okay." Damen finishes his last morsel. "Let's talk."

~

Sleep was a luxury Damen could barely afford. There were the flights, and the phone calls, and the late-night supplier emails, and the meetings that will never end. Sundays were usually the only days he could really, truly, sleep in. No consequences, no waking up to his phone ringing. The family lunch usually wasn't until around 2 pm anyways.  
  
Of course, he couldn't do that this time.

He arrived at their family home at 7 am (ungodly, he knows). There were cooks and servers bustlin about, with baskets of ingredients and piles of plates on their arms. His team had already arrived half an hour before him, putting up the archway and opening boxes of ornaments for the centerpieces. The photographer and his team were on their way, so Damen had some of his people start the decorating. He milled around, checking on the progress and talking to the suppliers. Flowers were arriving in trucks, only the most beautiful pale shades of pink and orange. Soft organza and tulle were intertwined in the setups, and he marvelled at how dreamy it all was starting to look.

As with most of the events he's handled before, at least one of the clients would be nervous. Today he learned that Kastor, cool and collected even in the face of the most unbelieving investors and board members, became a wreck during times like this. He was asking about everything since they went home after that dinner, from the colors to the food to the music. He once called Damen and asked if it was possible that his suit wouldn't fit just right on the day.

"You had it fitted literally yesterday. I doubt your body would change that much in 48 hours," Damen soothed, putting on his best comforting tone.

That seemed to pacify Kastor for a few minutes before he started panicking about the ring. Damen told him that he picked it up himself, and is in the safest place Damen knew. Yes, it was exactly 3 carats, a pear-shaped black diamond surrounded by a half-circle of smaller diamonds set in a delicate gold ring. Yes, the box was the deepest shade of blue velvet available, her initials in gold foil on the inside cover. And no, he wasn't going to forget it on the day.

Today was no different, with at least a dozen different texts. Damen decided that it would probably be best that he go to Kastor himself and get him to calm down. He assigned Nikandros, his associate, to handle things while he was gone. Nikandros nodded once and went straight to work.

It took less than 10 minutes to get to Kastor's sprawling mansion, all impeccable stone and perfectly manicured gardens. A servant opened the massive double doors, and Damen stepped into a place he once knew so well. He politely asked for his brother, and was directed to the study. Knowing that he was most likely going to see him frazzled, he steeled himself. It's going to be just like everyone else.

To his surprise, he found Kastor sitting at their father's mammoth mahogany desk, quiet and staring at nothing. He barely looked up as Damen walked over to him.

"Hey," he started gently, not wanting to get him agitated. "It's almost showtime."

Kastor didn't move an inch. "Maybe it is too fast."

Damen bites back a sigh and coaxes the older Akielon to stand up. He fixes his collar and helps smooth out his hair. He ties the blue silk tie as neatly as he could. Kastor doesn't say anything, just lets him go through the motions of fixing him up.

In a way, he knows what his brother felt. He didn't get the chance to be in this exact same position, but it was something that he just... knew. That fear, of not knowing what's going to happen next. The overwhelming love and devotion. The way it almost felt like too much all at once. And that certainty, that tiny thing that just kept telling him that it was right, it was all right.

He takes Kastor's hand and places the tiny box in it. It takes several more minutes before Damen breaks the silence. "Take it from me, it's just the right time."

~

Damen went ahead of them to make sure that absolutely everything was in order. He walked throughout the expanse of the yard, walkie-talkie in one hand and his eyes on his watch. Archway, check. Flowers, check. Pathway, check. String quartet, check. Photographers, check.

He wanted to take pictures of the setup and post them on his social media page, but something about it felt like it shouldn't be shared with the world. This perfect private little thing, one of the few events he had to plan overnight. He wants to just live in it, live in the flowers and the delicate grace of each line in the setup.

Nikandros started walking beside him, holding a megaphone. "Positions! We have 5 minutes until they arrive."

A majority of their close family was present, hidden in the sitting room of the main building. Damen sidled next to their mother, who was swathed in rich gem tones and following the proceedings with her sharp eyes. She approved of this union, always had, and she was waiting for this very moment. It might as well be one of her most-repeated wishes, right next to going back to the seaside. Someday, Damen will take her, he promises.

He holds his breath as the sound of Kastor's car pulling up in the driveway grows closer. He's been doing this for years, but the moment before the clients see it will always be the most nerve-wracking. Even more so with them, these two people in his life that are a significant part of his heart. Damen always wanted to please them, make sure that they could see the best in him.

There are footsteps, and the ring of Jokaste's laugh in the air. As they come closer, the garden slowly lights up, looking like thousands of fireflies bathing the place in glitter. Music slowly swells to life, sweet and gentle. They come into view, Jokaste in a midnight blue dress that sparkled in the light, her steps slowing as she takes in everything. Kastor is grinning from ear to ear, no longer the scared man he was earlier.

Damen's heart is in his throat, and he's not entirely sure how he feels. It all looks so perfect, so much like how he imagined it. His mother holds his hand, stroking her thumb across it. She's always been good at sensing how he felt. He looks over at her, and a small smile is growing across her face.

Kastor and Jokaste reach the end of the pathway, with the arch of flowers over them and the lights making them look like they're in starlight. Jokaste looks like she's going to start crying soon, already figuring out what's happening. His brother then slowly lowers himself on one knee, pulling out the tiny box from inside his jacket. She really does start crying then, her body shaking as she sees Kastor open the box. Damen stops breathing for a few moments.

"This isn't like me, doing this," Kastor begins, his voice far away but clear. "But ever since I met you, my life was thrown out of balance. I haven't had much of a chance to step back and rethink things, since every single moment with you is new and exciting and makes me feel more than I have ever felt."

For some sort of reason, Damen's mind blocks out the rest. He only sees them and can distantly feel his mother's hand on his own, but everything else doesn't seem to exist. Like a film on mute. It's not very long before his mind registers that Jokaste is jumping and throwing her arms around his brother, and everyone in the room is standing up and hustling to go to them. His mother stays behind, still holding onto him, the smile reaching her eyes.

When he fully comes to, finally aware of everything again, he hears how Jokaste still says softly, "Yes, yes."

#

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damen didn't know if it was just him, but it was like Jokaste specifically wanted this caterer to taunt him a bit. Knowing her, that's probably true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about the order in which people do wedding planning so don't kill me for this

"Uh yeah, can we have a different caterer?"

It's another Sunday, apparently the only day both of them were free, and Damen had to put two shots of espresso in his cup this morning. They arrived as early as one would expect them to, dressed like they're going to an inauguration and entering his office with a flourish.

As they sit down, Damen brings out the binders. One of themes they have done before, one of their venues, one with the color schemes, and several of their various suppliers. He sets them down in front of them and takes a seat. Clients often already have a lot of ideas for what they want, but they need help solidifying an image in their minds most of the time.

He brings out his notepad and the first ballpen he can grab. "Let's start with the basics of it all. The number of guests, the date, the venue you'd want."

They give him answers, and he notes them. An August date, which would coincide with their anniversary. Around 1000 guests, what with the company and all their connections. They prefer to have the ceremony somewhere close to the reception venue. They want somewhere that's reachable within a few minutes from the ceremony and surrounded by nature of some sort, but they're not sure about a particular place yet.

"Do you have anything in mind for how it's going to look? It could be even the smallest idea," he says in his brightest tone.

Jokaste is flipping slowly through the themes binder. Her face doesn't show much of anything as she takes in the photos. She pauses at one spread, which shows a Victorian-themed wedding Damen had done a year ago. "I want it to feel like we stepped into a different world."

"Okay, we can go from there. Do you like that one?" He gestured to the pages that she was still on. "We can make it your own, completely."

She lingers on it. "These colors." The event had deep shades of red and purple interspersed with cream and black details, and gold accents laced heavily throughout. Not very common in wedding colors in recent years, since people find it too dark. But these are Jokaste and Kastor, and they don't want the ordinary.

Jokaste flips to a spread before that one. It shows the biggest event Damen has done to date, a 500-guest fantasy wedding that used hundreds of thousands of flowers, had a cake that was lowered from the ceiling, LED screens for both the backdrop and the dance floor, with a feast that spread as far as the eye could see, and which took almost a full year to plan. Arguably the event he knew he wouldn't be able to forget or to replicate, not with that magnitude of decadence. "Can you do something like this again?" Kastor asks, the first real thing he's said today.

"Of course." Damen says automatically. "But there are a lot of things to be considered. Things like the number of guests, the venue, the date. With what you told me, it's going to be a bit difficult, but doable still."

In reality, it's going to be very difficult. He has around half the time to pull off something about twice as big, with twice as many people. And that's just all he knows for now, not yet about any of the other requests.

They go through all the other basic things, like choosing shades and then a preliminary choice for the flowers, the tableware, and the other suppliers. Damen takes notes on everything, determined to go over them later and start drafting out a plan. He already has a rough vision of what is going to happen and how it's going to happen. He's excited about it, a new challenge that will test everything he's been doing all this time. It is then that Jokaste first protests about something.

"Uh yeah, can we have a different caterer?"

Damen has to stop himself from looking surprised. He has stuck to one caterer for most of the events that he's done, and they've developed a great professional relationship over the years. He can call them and they'd be able to deliver exactly how he imagined things, and it was always the best quality every single time. Having a different caterer might make things a little more complicated, as he has to adapt to how they work.

"May I ask why you'd want a different one? I'm sure we can find a caterer to suit your tastes." He took out his card holder which held business cards, looking for the caterers that he knew. There had been a few dozen that he's met at least once, and he's worked with a good number of those.

"I've been to some of the events that you've done. I did like the food, but I want something new for our wedding. I don't want to be like everyone else in this city," Jokaste answered plainly.

That's fair. Damen had been working with his trusty caterer for the most part of the last decade, and it might be time to widen his arsenal of people that he works with. Who knows, maybe this new caterer will really be able to help him with doing all of this. He needs all the help he can get.

"Do you have any suggestions for that?"

~

Laurent DeVere is most likely the definition of pristine. He arrives at the café a few minutes after Damen settled down, looking like a ray of sunshine against the dark wood and stone of the place. Dressed in a light blue linen suit which matched his eyes, his golden hair plaited neatly, he makes almost everyone turn to look. Damen did research about him before this, and he's seen photos, but apparently those didn't do Laurent justice.

This is the caterer Jokaste wanted to have. She heard about him because of a friend's birthday bash, and has been wanting to get him for her wedding ever since. She had slid his business card across the table to Damen, and he had stared at the looping letters in gold foil on expensive cardstock. After the meeting, he looked Laurent up, finding his website. It was beautifully done, with samples of his work and the menus he had carefully curated, as well as all the services he offers. There were multiple photos, of the events and of Laurent with clients.

He had emailed Laurent that night, and got a reply within the hour. A date and place were set, and they were going to meet soon.

Damen didn't know if it was just him, but it was like Jokaste specifically wanted this caterer to taunt him a bit. Knowing her, that's probably true.

Damen stood and held out his hand for Laurent to shake. "Damen Akielon. It's nice to meet you."

"Laurent DeVere. I've heard of you." Laurent slid into the seat opposite him, putting down his own binder and a small planner. He hailed a waiter and placed his order, honey lemon tea and a slice of cake. He asked Damen if he wanted anything more, seeing as Damen already had a cup of coffee. He agreed to have a slice of cake too.

They sit in silence for a few moments, all the expectancy of two people meeting for the first time. Normally, Damen would have gotten right down to the matter at hand, but a part of him wanted to take in everything. Jesus. He had to stop staring.

"This isn't your type of thing, is it?" Laurent put his phone down, turning his full attention to Damen. His hands are clasped and resting casually on the table.

"No, it isn't. It's rare that clients would request another caterer, but I realized that maybe I did have to look at other options. You know, broaden my connections."

Laurent sipped at his tea. "And here we are." A hint of a smile played at his lips.

After a bit of quiet once again as Damen takes out his notes and his drafts, he begins with, "As I've said in the email, their wedding is going to be a large affair. Quite bigger than any I've done before. We're going to have to be able to coordinate with each other almost the entire time for us to be able to pull this off."

Laurent asks for his notes and the samples of what they have chosen thus far. He exchanges these for his binder, which has all of his services, the options, and the price points. Damen's eyes alight on the hundred dollar plates of food. "Quite the challenge, it is. We can make it work."

Damen is relieved that he's already rather easy to work with. They'll be able to ease into it more in the next weeks.

"What about we start with drafting out what we're going to do?" Damen proposes. Laurent agrees, opening his Moleskine to a fresh page.

There were already the bare bones of the plan, but since a lot of it would also depend on the venue, Damen couldn't draw a concrete draft. He had come up with at least 10 possible places from his research the night before, all in areas that were easy to reach, and within range of the type of feel that the couple wanted. Laurent suggested a handful more, slightly further from the heart of the city, but more picturesque. Phone number and emails were saved, even more words scribbled in the margins.

Laurent was competent, that was for sure. He had years of experience and more than hundreds of events in those years. He held an air of calm, like this was all that he had ever done. Yet he was young, at least a few years younger than Damen, and he was already so certain of what he wanted to do. Damen admired his drive, watching as the blond read over the details in the printout.

They spend about an hour more in that coffee shop, with them finishing off another round of drinks and cakes, sharing contacts and ideas. By the end of it, they stood to say their goodbyes, and Laurent extended his hand first.

"It's great to meet you, Damen. We'll pull this off, I know it."

Damen returned the smile. Everyone had been that assuring when they would first meet to discuss plans, but he felt like he was the most sure of that with him. "I'll show them the venues and set viewing appointments for the ones they choose by tomorrow."

"And I'll send all of the packages I'd want them to look over. I'll see you for the oculars."

Damen nodded and tried not to watch as he left. He decided to linger a bit more, opening his laptop and going through his emails. There was another client he was going to meet that evening to discuss the logistics of a grand entrance, and he had to take a trip to the flower shop to get brochures. But he had time, and he wanted to have a bit of a breather.

In the middle of typing out a reply to his assistant's message asking about the dessert preferences of a return client, a small yellow box was placed on the table. Looking up, he saw that it was Torveld, the pastry chef here that already knew exactly what to give him based on his mood that day. He had seen Damen go through joy and heartbreak and week-long sleeplessness. Now, he had just given him a mini lemon cake, which was for the days that he wanted Damen to talk.

"There's nothing to even tell you," Damen laughed, tracing the ribbon on the box. Torveld sat down in the seat opposite him, his eyebrows already raised up to his hairline.

"Tell me who that one was," he answered, dusting off the flour on his arms. His expression remained in its smug state.

Damen ran his fingertips over the letters printed on the box. "A caterer, a new one. Jokaste requested for him."

At that, Torveld's eyebrows shot up even more, if that was even possible. He stood up to get himself a cup of coffee and plopped back down, unwilling to let any of this up.

"So, she's getting married huh?"

Damen nodded, not really wanting to talk about all of this right now. He had already done that for hours with Laurent. But this was Torveld, the exact same one who made him two dozen mini berry tarts a week when he was barely willing to down anything other than microwaved food for a month. He couldn't not talk about it.

"Which means you're going to work with him for a good part of this year, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then," Torveld replied, the tone in his voice making Damen chuckle and roll his eyes.

"What are you saying?" he chided.

Torveld raised his hands like he was innocent. "I'm not saying anything!" Damen shook his head at him and got back to typing out the email.

There was only the tapping of his fingers on the keyboard and the soft bustling of people in the cafe for a while, but he could still feel Torveld's eyes trained on him. He knew he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, content with just sitting there with him for the rest of his break.

Finally, he decided to leave Damen. "Tell me what he likes to eat. I'll make it for him anytime."

Damen laughs at that. "You don't have to do that at all, you know?" He starts packing up, knowing he should go to his other appointments soon.

Torveld was already behind the counter, putting pastries on plates. "Yeah, but it always impresses them right? Never failed once."

"It's not like that," Damen counters, sliding his papers into his envelopes.

"If I had a dollar every time you told yourself that..." Torveld was folding the top of a paper bag. Damen wanted to throw a wad of tissue at him. He stood up to leave.

He was almost out the door when he hears, "Hey, Damen."

"What is it?" He turns to face the dark-haired man with his apron full of flour and cream splatters and a face full of mischief.

"Try not to make _him_ the buffet okay?" Torveld grins teasingly.

Damen kept his jaw from dropping and rolled his eyes. "I'm leaving, Torveld!" He could hear the laughter behind him.

He drove to the flower shop first, wanting to say hello to a friend before she left. Truth be told, he could have had any of the assistants pick up the brochures, but going there was always a treat. There was the sheer amount of the flowers in every shade possible, and the sweetness that enveloped his senses. Gorgeous arrangements filled the space, all being shifted out every other day. He took inspiration from some of them, marveling at how they could create almost anything from plants.

When he arrived, he was greeted with a smile from the shop owner. Being guided inside, Damen took in the clusters of bright blooms amongst paler ones. Spring would come soon, which meant even more colors lining the interiors of this shop. He makes a mental note to visit again at the beginning of that.

He wanders around for a bit, taking pictures every few steps. There's a huge piece that's shaped like a castle, made out of lilies, roses, and baby's breath. An actual adult can pass through the doorway draped with carnations without difficulty. Next to that were three smaller ones, a crown, a shoe, and scepter. Further down is a whole display made to look like a winter wonderland. Snowflakes made of the smallest flowers possible are dripping from the ceiling. There are white trees encircling the display. A few small flower people are skating on a rink of glass. All of these took so much time and so much care, and he couldn't help but gape at them.

Light footsteps approached, and Damen didn't even have to look to see who it was. He let her hover at his side, watching as Damen took dozens of pictures. "That one took us almost a week," she said, her tone directed at the winter scenery.

"You never fail to create magic," he replied, barely over a whisper. He finally turned to face her, and she had already brought him a stack of their newest catalogues. She always knew what Damen came here for, and has without fail given him the brochures every single time.

She let him plop down on one of their plush sofas, and gently set down the catalogues. Pulling out a small envelope from her desk, she set that down in front of him as well.

"Those are the photos of the flower types you requested. I'm assuming you're meeting them tonight?"

Damen nodded, sliding them into his file case. This couple had been great to work with from the start, and he wanted the absolute best for them. He thanked her as he clicked the case shut.

He looked back up to her, and she seemed like she had just figured something out. "Something's bothering you."

"I wouldn't say it's necessarily...bothering me." That was true, at least. It wasn't that he was bothered. It's just that some part of him hadn't processed everything yet.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "I'll let you talk when you want to." A finger slid her wire frame glasses up her nose, and a tired hand ran through her dark hair. Vaskia was younger than him, but she already had the presence of someone that was mentally and emotionally stronger than him. She was like a mother at times, or an older sister that he never had. Maybe he needed an older sister in his life.

Tapping his fingers on the arm of the sofa, he took a deep breath. Might as well tell her too. "Kastor and Jokaste are getting married." He watched as a flicker of something flashed across Vaskia's face. She sat down and started sorting through her files.

"No wonder we got so many orders getting delivered to Akielos Inc. the past few days. It was that." She didn't sound too interested or too shocked by any of it, punching numbers into a calculator and scribbling on her notepad. Vaskia knew it was coming, sooner or later. "So, how are you feeling about that?"

"Well for one, it's going to be one of the busiest next few months because of course they want a huge affair and-"

"I didn't mean that." She didn't look up to meet his gaze when she said that. Damen fiddled with the embroidery on a pillow. He didn't know what to answer.

His phone pinged. Nikandros texted him, saying that the couple were on their way. It was an easy way out, and he was eternally grateful for that. He stood up and collected his things. Vaskia had stood up as well, walking up to him to say goodbye. She smoothed his tie, and then patted him on the shoulder. "Don't exhaust yourself, okay? I know how you get sometimes."

Damen nodded, fully aware that she wanted him to take care of himself. He loved what he did, but sometimes he did a bit too much.

Later that night, as he was settling into his bed, eyes ready to close at any moment, he heard his phone ping. He grappled for it on his bedside table, squinting at the bright screen when he opened the notification. It was an email from Laurent, with several attachments. He typed in a quick reply and shut his phone off.

Tomorrow. He'll look at those tomorrow.

#

 


End file.
